A Series of Unfortunately Short Stories
by Splder-Queen
Summary: A bunch of Hetalia pairing shorts I'm doing to practice my writing ! There will be a multitude of pairings, and a lot of AU's ! Updating whenever possible ! The title of each chapter will be the pairing/AU, so you can sift through easily.
1. Spamano - Apocalypse

"_Jesus fucking Christ_, you Spanish _shit_, how many goddamn times do I have to tell you to take off your damn shoes at the door!? That is _disgusting_."

The Spaniard in question flinched, immediately dropping to the floor to wrestle off his boots.

"Sorry, Roma, I forgot again. Sorry!" He smiled up at the auburn-haired Italian, hoping it would calm him at least a bit. The bloody boot prints on the tile weren't _that_ terrible.

Romano seemed to come to the same conclusion after a cursory glance at the tracks leading from the doorway to the middle of the living room, where they were standing now. "It's fine, I suppose," He muttered. "But you'd better clean that up. I'm not the maid! And, dear god, tell me you cleaned your weapons."

"Yes, Roma, of course I did."

"And you cleared the garden?"

"Yes."

"I swear, if you let one of those dead bastards touch a _leaf_ on one of my goddamn tomatoes, your head will hang on this mantle-"

"No need. Your tomatoes are safe with me," He announced as he rose to his feet, holding his boots in one hand and placing the other to his chest as he bent in a small bow.

"Don't pull that knight-in-shining-armor shit with me, jackass. The first day here you let one of those rotting hellspawn trample most of my herbs, and then when you went out to kill it you crushed the rest of them!"

"Yes, but you must admit, Roma, you were equally distracted-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Romano shouted, flicking at Antonio's nose and frowning harshly.

"Just clean up your damnable mess and put your boots away," He grumbled, stalking off to the rather predictable location of the kitchen, where he would inevitably begin cooking in a furious rage.

Antonio smiled, chest puffing out as he trumped across the room and set his (rather bloody) boots down by the door, next to an (also rather bloody) welcome mat. After a quick wash of his hands in a large basin, he set out to clean the floor, taking one of his many filthy shirts from its place hanging over the back of the couch and dampening it before furiously scrubbing the floor with it.

This was life now. Sparkling house, sparkling garden, not-so-sparkling wardrobe and an almost nonexistent community (unless you counted the zombies, which some people did).

Antonio and Romano loved it. They truly did.


	2. Usuk - College

Alfred burst into the room like a bull running at a red wall.

"Arthur!" He all but screamed. "Arthur, help!"

The Englishman in question just about fell out of his office chair, flailing about in an attempt to regain himself. "_What?_ What is it, Alfred?! I swear, there had better be someone chasing after you with a _chainsaw_-"

"Help me study!" Alfred interrupted, shoving his textbooks in Arthur's general direction. "I can't deal with literature!"

Arthur stared blankly, mouth agape as his stiff posture slackened and disbelief took over his features. "Are- Are you kidding me, Alfred? Please be kidding."

Alfred tilted his head in honest confusion. "Why would I be kidding? Arthur, please, I'm really bad at this and you're British!"

"What does me being British have to do with anything?!" Arthur roared, obviously aggravated by Alfred's outburst.

"It means you're good with book 'n stuff! _Please please please please_?" The blond American whined, wiggling his arm to shake his books at Arthur.

Arthur shifted his weight to his other foot, placing a hand on his slim hip. "_Dear god_, Alfred, don't _whine_ about it. It will get you nowhere. Now give me the bloody books." He grumbled in resignation, snatching the aforementioned textbooks from Alfred's hands and slamming them down on his desk in a show of making sure Alfred knew that _no_, he did _not_ like helping him, he was _definitely_ only doing this to get Alfred out of his hair about it.

Alfred bounced excitedly, thanking Arthur several times in quick succession before pulling up his own office chair and sitting down on it. "Okay, so – this chapter here. I gotta study for a test, and read some play or another. It says which play somewhere on the first page." He said, flipping the book open to the beginning of a chapter marked with a neon pink sticky note.

Arthur nodded, a frown creasing his face as he glared down at the page.

"Alfred – oh my god, Alfred, this is the easiest chapter in the book. _Alfred_."

Alfred crossed his arms over his chest, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. "Come on, Arthur! I told you I suck at this, you don't have to rub it in!"

Arthur shrugged, running his finger along the first line. "No matter. What is it you're having trouble with, anyways?"

"Mostly with trying to decipher Old English." Alfred muttered, glaring down at the textbook hatefully. "With your damn '_thee_'s and '_thou_'s. Hate it."

"All you have to do is read Shakespeare. Come now, Alfred, I'll help you read it if you want. Do you think it would help if I read it _to_ you?"

"Maybe," Alfred shrugged. "Worth a shot, right?"

Arthur nodded in agreement, dragging the book Alfred was required to read out from under the textbook.

"Hamlet. Figures." He muttered before opening the small paperback, placing a finger on the first line as he read it.

"Act I, Scene I. Elsinore. A platform before the castle. Francisco at his post. Enter to him Bernardo."

He read well, to say the least; his voice rose and fell just when it should, he seemed to have a voice locked away for every character, he pronounced everything perfectly in his lilting accent, and he seemed to express the characters' emotions through himself. It was worthy of a theatre performance.

"Prince Fortinbras: Let four captains bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage; for he was likely, had he been put on, to have proved most royally: and, for his passage, the soldiers' music and the rites of war speak loudly for him. Take up the bodies: such a sight as this becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. Go, bid the soldiers shoot." He finished, waving his hand in the air to accentuate the final line.

He looked up at Alfred who, to his immense surprise, appeared completely enraptured with the story. He had his blue eyes glue to him like the answers to the universe rested on Arthur's lips.

"Alfred – Alfred, are you okay?" He waved his hand in front of the American's face, whistling to get his attention. "I finished. Did you get it?"

Alfred shook his head as if to clear it, blinking several times as if in disbelief. "Yeah. Hell yeah, I got it. Holy shit, Arthur, that was hot."

Arthur recoiled at this, face becoming warm as it turned bright scarlet. "It – What?! Alfred, I _read_ to you-"

"Yeah," Alfred interrupted with his agreement. "And it was hot. You should do theatre."

Arthur, still blushing furiously, closed the small book and set it aside. "Uhm, thank you? I suppose."

Alfred was silent, eyes flicking over Arthur only a moment before he moved forward, seemingly to rise from his seat.

Arthur was shocked for the second time, however, when, instead of getting up, Alfred pressed his lip against Arthur's.

Arthur squealed in surprise against Alfred's lips, flailing about for a hold on something. When his hands finally made contact with something, he gripped his hands around it harshly. He realized, however, that it was Alfred's broad shoulders he now held onto as if for dear life.

But at the same time, he realized that he didn't exactly protest to what was happening. It felt nice, even. He relaxed, pressing back against Alfred's mouth and sighing against his lips. He would yell about this later, most definitely – but not yet.

Actually, maybe not later, either. Maybe he would just kiss him again, instead.


	3. Gerita - Drama Class

this one took a little while to get together because of school, sorry about that !

this might seem to run a little quickly, and im sorry about that ! i just didn't want to make it terribly long and i knew if i had let myself go further with it, it would have turned into several chapter's worth of writing ! aha

and, thank you to SuperstitiousSeaturtles for the nice reviews ! im glad you like these so much !

_Take One_

"No!" Feliciano roared, throwing his script down at the floor with all the force of a man who had just found a cockroach on his papers. "No, I will absolutely not kiss you! This is ridiculous!"

"You're telling me!" Ludwig shot back, tossing his script to the couch. "That is disgusting! It's bad enough you were cast as my character's love interest, and now I have to kiss you?! Honestly, what was Mister Jones thinking?! Ugh," He reached over, angrily reclaiming his copy of the play and clutching it in his fist as though he wanted to rip it apart. "Let's run over the first part again."

Feliciano glared daggers, squatting to nab his script from the floor as he spat "_Fine,_" venomously.

_Take Two_

Ludwig stared at the script ferociously, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed as he read several lines over and over.

"I still cannot _believe_-" He cleared his throat as his voice cracked in his frustration, lips curved towards the ground in a frown. "I still cannot believe they wrote in a kiss. It was completely unnecessary for the storyline, and also, ew."

Feliciano's eyebrows practically hit his hairline when Ludwig's voice cracked – he hadn't expected it from Ludwig of all people. He'd sort of assumed he'd passed the phase of cracking-voice issues as his voice became more 'masculine'.

If Ludwig's voice got any deeper, Feliciano thought he might have to drop out of school.

"Ew is right," Feliciano finally agreed, expression turning to one of vague frustration. "I cannot even begin to tell you how well 'Ugh' fits in this situation."

Ludwig nodded, the crease in his brown defined by the dimmed apartment light. "I suppose we must, though. As much as I hate it," He added, pressing his lips together in a thin line. "It's in the script."

Feliciano crossed his arms over his chest in a show of stubbornness. "Maybe we could call Mr. Jones about it! He would understand, I'm sure." Feliciano turned on his heel, reaching out towards the coffee table for his phone. However, at the sound of Ludwig coming up behind him with a gruff protest, his arm's course was changed, and after ripping his lamp's plug from its socket he chucked it directly at Ludwig's head. It flew right past him, but in his surprise Ludwig staggered back a few paces before landing on his backside in the middle of Feliciano's carpeted living room.

"_Scheiße - !_" Ludwig howled, looking absolutely horrified. "What the hell, Feliciano?!"

Feliciano felt a twinge of guilt twist in his gut but he held his ground, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking out his bottom lip. "You're the one who came up behind me like you were gonna take my phone or something!"

Ludwig looked completely lost, and more than a bit frustrated. "You didn't even look at me before you threw the lamp, how would you have known?!"

"Whatever!" Feliciano huffed, wringing his hands behind his back. "Let's just try the scene one more time already, okay?! Maybe we can manage the kiss without it sucking."

"That's what I was trying to say before," Ludwig grumbled, though with the new knowledge of how good Feliciano's aim was, he wasn't about to test his luck by letting Feliciano hear a word of it.

_Take Three_

Feliciano, still rather frustrated by having to kiss his long-time drama class rival, hesitated when he glanced at his script and was painfully struck with the reminder that the kissing scene existed.

Ludwig cleared his throat, redirecting Feliciano's attention up to him. "Let's just get it over with, okay? It's nearly midnight and we've been trying to do this all night."

Feliciano nodded slowly, furrowed brow relaxing as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Yes. Okay. Alright, yeah." Feliciano set his script down on the couch, gesturing for Ludwig to do the same.

After they had settled back into position, Feliciano turned his head up to look at Ludwig. With the glaring height difference, Feliciano thought he was bound to break his neck trying to look Ludwig in the eye. Brushing the thought away, he took several deep breaths before lifting himself up on his toes to better reach the taller man.

Feliciano was rather shocked, however, when Ludwig grabbed him around the waist, bending him back and pressing his lips gently against Feliciano's. Feliciano, remember that they were _acting_ and it had to get played up for the audience, relaxed almost immediately and pressed back.

When Ludwig lifted them both to their original stance again, his cheeks were bright crimson, and the poor man looked as though he was going to faint. Feliciano was in no better condition, stumbling forward and knocking his forehead against Ludwig's chest before successfully righting himself.

"…Maybe we should try that again. Make sure we've got it right." Feliciano muttered, eyes as wide as plates as he stared up at Ludwig in what seemed like a mixture of awe and shock.

"Maybe we should…" Ludwig responded almost immediately, his blush darkening.

One-on-one rehearsal went very smoothly from that point on.


	4. Sufin - Highschool

aww, you guys are too nice to me ! thank u for the reviews !

this one is my longest yet ! sufin, for Miss Ky ! enjoy ! :0

* * *

><p>Tino rubbed his hands together before bending a bit, keeping his eyes on the other end of the hallway as he prepared to run with a few small stretches. He had seen this in an anime, and it had looked very cool; running at top-speed with dust trailing behind you! This would definitely be fun.<p>

"Go, shota boy, go!" Matthias called from behind him, using another one of his infuriating nicknames. Tino rolled his eyes but decided against responding; Matthias was nice enough when he wasn't calling him 'shota boy' or 'walking marshmallow', and Tino was in a hurry to start anyways.

After he had finished with his stretching he ran a hand through his hair, taking a final deep breath before he began his run. No dust trailed behind him in a cloud, but it was exhilarating nonetheless. He could hear Matthias whooping and hollering far behind him, and it only encouraged him.

The hallway was long, and the only openings were on either end, where it broke off into two more corridors in the shape of a T. That is, excluding the classroom doors that littered the walls. Tino assumed they were all locked since it was after-hours, but he hadn't checked.

He probably should have.

A door opened right beside him, and in his surprise he raised an arm, only to yelp as his hand made contact with the face of a man much taller than him. At this point he was unable to save himself from toppling backwards, landing on his rear painfully and just barely keeping himself from smashing his head against the floor.

Above him, the man slowly raised a hand to his face where he had been struck. Tino took the moment of silent recovery for both of them as a chance to get a good look at who he had hit – perhaps he would recognize him.

Tall, built like a brick wall, disheveled blonde hair, blue eyes behind glasses and a frown etched into his features – there was no mistaking him. This was Berwald Oxenstierna.

Tino's face went red, and he scrambled to his feet despite the aching pain in his pelvis. "Oh my gosh, Berwald, I-I'm so sorry," He stuttered over his words in his rush to get them out, glancing around for help from Matthias. Of course, the Dane had made a quick escape as soon as he had laid eyes on Berwald. There would be no help from him, then.

Berwald interrupted Tino's seemingly endless string of apologies and exclamations of distress with a finger to his lips, which only caused Tino to go from redder than a tomato to white as a sheet.

"'S'okay." Berwald said, his voice pure gravel, which startled Tino – he had never actually met Berwald in person, but the rumors behind his name passed across the school like a virus. However, none of them had said a thing about that voice. "It was 'n accident."

Tino nearly hit himself when the next thought that crossed his mind became apparent to him. How could he be thinking about attractive voices right now? He had just slapped Berwald! Slapped him, for god's sake! Tino lowered his eyes in shame, only to freeze when he noticed something along the line of Berwald's shirt collar.

That is, the bright red colouration of his neck.

Berwald was just as embarrassed as Tino. For what reason, Tino couldn't guess, but there it was, red and obvious and seeping more into Berwald's cheeks the longer they stood there staring at each other like terrified puppies.

"Let me take you home and get you some ice," Tino blurted, wrapping both hands around Berwald's wrist. "As a sort of apology? I left a mark on your cheek, it looks like."

Berwald remained stone-faced as ever, though his increasingly crimson cheeks told a different story. "Yea, sure."

* * *

><p>The car ride had been a long and silent one, and Tino was relieved when they pulled up in his driveway. After exiting and locking the car, he shuffled up to his door, locating his house key and unlocking his door. He burst in with a sigh as the cool air of his air-conditioned house washed over him, bending to pet his dog, Hana, who was yipping excitedly at her owner's return.<p>

Berwald stepped in, closing the door behind him. Hana scurried off into another room almost immediately, obviously spooked by the large stranger.

Tino glanced at Berwald, a bit concerned by Hana's reaction, but Berwald seemed unfazed. He shrugged it off, grabbing at Berwald's wrist to lead him into the kitchen, where he dug through his freezer for several long moments before coming out with an ice pack.

"Here," He offered, pressing the icy thing to Berwald's cheek. Berwald went red all over again at the close proximity, but Tino ignored it in favor of inspecting the red hand-print on his cheek. Lacking height enough to get very close, he lifted himself up on his toes. Berwald, however, appeared to have had the same thought, and bent down for Tino at the same time. They bumped noses, and Tino yelped in surprise and mild pain before pulling back a bit.

Berwald seemed to have other ideas.

He placed his large hand on the back of Tino's head, pulling him back up to kiss him.

Tino, in his shock, froze. No reciprocation, hardly breathing, stiff as a board. Berwald pulled away, eyes darting to his feet.

"Sorry."

Tino was speechless, staring up at Berwald silently. Where there had been hardly any breathing before, there was now heavy, overexcited breathing. When he was finally able to speak, the words he could get out were hurried and stuttered over.

"N-No, it's – It's fine, Berwald."

Berwald, expressionless save a glint in his eye – _was that hopefulness?_ – looked up from his shoes.

"…Can I do 't again?"

"P-Pardon me?" Tino asked incredulously. He must have heard wrong…?

"Can I kiss ya again?"

Apparently not.

"I-I, uhm, you - …I suppose so…?" Tino was almost as red as Berwald at this point, wringing his hands behind his back and seemingly unable to look anywhere but Berwald's eyes.

Berwald practically jumped on him, wrapping one arm around Tino's waist and taking hold of his right leg with the other, lifting the small man up to wrap his legs around his waist. After Tino had taken hold, Berwald moved his hand from Tino's leg to his neck, pressing his lips against his almost _greedily_. He was obviously very enthusiastic about this.

Tino, while also enthusiastic, showed it less – gently cupping Berwald's face, pressing back with vigor but no greed, squeezing Berwald's hips between his thighs. He acted far calmer, though he was truly the opposite.

* * *

><p>"<em>You got laid?!<em>"

"_Quiet down about it!_" Tino hissed, smacking Matthias over the head with a book. "_Yes_, I did."

"Who was it? Tell me, shota boy!"

"If you keep calling me that you'll get nothing out of me!"

"_Pleeeease?_"

"Fine! Just shush!" Tino huffed, reaching out to swat at Matthias when a cheeky grin spread over his face. "It was Berwald, okay?! Gosh."

"Berwald?" Matthias' face immediately went from excitement to horror. "As in, Berwald Oxenstierna? Oh my god, Tino, did he hurt you?"

"_No!_ Of course not!" Tino looked offended, as though the thought of letting someone hurt him was a huge insult. "He'd be in the hospital, instead of coming this way, now _hush!_"

Berwald sat himself down next to Tino, setting his lunch tray carefully in front of him before turning to speak to Tino. Matthias had clamped his mouth firmly shut, acting as though his lunch was suddenly the most interesting thing on the planet.

Tino grinned at the lack of incessant chattering from the Dane about who-knows-what. If Berwald scared him quiet, Matthias had obviously taken more rumors to heart than Tino had.

If it kept him quiet long enough to get more than a sentence out before being forced into silence again, Tino didn't think he would object much to keeping those rumors afloat with Matthias.


	5. Gerita - Fae

Ludwig passed a hand through his messy hair, hoping the sweat coating his forehead and palms would help to slick it back and out of his face. Farm work took time and strength, and his older brother had neither, so he ended up doing the work alone most days. Today he was harvesting the carrots – many more had survived than he had anticipated, and so the work had gone on for far longer than it usually did.

Something glittered on the edge of his vision. He looked up from the carrots he was pulling from the ground, narrowing his eyes against the harsh sunlight. It appeared to have come from the direction of the river, so after a moment's scanning he passed it off as the sunlight hitting the water.

After another row of carrots had been pulled, another flicker of reflected light invaded his vision, this time accompanied by a shrill, gleeful laugh, and the sound of splashing water. It almost sounded as though there was a child playing in the river.

Ludwig hated to shoo a child from their fun, even if they were on his property, but they would scare away the fish for days if they kept on like that. He needed those fish. It was with that thought in mind that he set his carrots aside, rising to his feet with a grunt to shuffle towards the river.

As he got closer, however, he noticed the figure in the water was much larger than a child would be. Though thin-waisted and long-limbed, the figure was shapely, and was obviously an adult. Ludwig had to wonder how an adult could laugh the way he had heard before – with the pure glee that he had only heard from children.

He cleared his throat, hoping to gain their attention before heading closer; he had no idea how much – or how little – clothing the person (still of undetermined gender) had gone into the river with. If it was female, at least biologically, he wouldn't want to intrude upon its possible shirtlessness.

The person in the water, at the sound of him clearing his throat, ducked so that only their eyes were above the water. They appeared to scan Ludwig wearily, but not much could be seen from the distance they were at. They seemed to realize this as well, and after what appeared to be a flinch of hesitation, they lifted themselves to their feet.

Ludwig's cheeks went scarlet at the figure's nudity, but his attention was drawn away from that when he realized that they (now confirmed as biologically male, though the way it was discovered might not have been to Ludwig's liking) were covered in what appeared to be shimmering green tattoos, in the form of scales in clumps across his body.

It was the scaled man's turn to clear his throat, drawing Ludwig's attention away from his thighs and hips, which were covered by a particularly large set of scale tattoos.

"U-Uhm, my apologies." Ludwig fumbled for his words. "Your tattoos are very… Distracting. Interesting."

The stranger cocked his head in seeming confusion, looking down at his own body before seeming to realize what Ludwig meant; his eyes lit up in amusement, and a smile curved his lips.

"Those aren't tattoos." He declared. "They're my scales."

Ludwig stared dumbly, completely silent. This stranger's voice was… Gorgeous. It lilted with an unfamiliar accent, and every word was like a song to his ears. After a moment, however, he was forced back to reality when he finally processed what he had said.

"…Scales?" Ludwig asked skeptically, bringing his arms up from their place at his sides to cross them over his chest. How could he have scales? He wasn't a fish!

"Yeah! If you don't believe me, come feel! They feel like scales!" He turned his shoulder towards Ludwig, revealing that it, along with most of the top half of his upper arm, was also covered in scales.

Ludwig glanced nervously from the stranger's arm, to his face, and back again. He didn't appear dangerous. Just very nude. He stepped forward, gingerly placing his hand over the scaled shoulder and brushing his thumb against it. He pulled his hand away quickly in shock; it did, in fact, feel like scales.

"How could you have scales?" He voiced his earlier question, eyes narrowing as he looked him up and down. "What's your name?"

"My name is Feliciano, and I'm a river nymph! What's your name?"

Ludwig's eyes widened at Feliciano's introduction. River nymph? Where had he heard that before? There were many more mystical creatures in the world, called fae, but he only vaguely remembered most of them; they didn't come around here, usually, so he had no need to. Pushing this aside for now, he met Feliciano's gaze as levelly as possible before speaking.

"My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt, and I'm… a farmer." He admitted, wondering why he had felt the need to tack that bit of information on in the first place. He was very low-class, and he needn't go flaunting it about.

Feliciano, however, seemed excited by this news. "Ooh, a farmer? Do you have horses? And cows and chickens? And a barn?" He rattled off at top-speed, molten amber eyes glittering in excitement. "Can I see?"

Ludwig had to take a moment to process Feliciano's hurried questions, and when it finally hit him, he was a little surprised. But, in kindness to this child-like fae, he nodded. "Yes, you may, if you like."

Feliciano clapped excitedly, bouncing on his heels excitedly. "Thank you!"

Ludwig nodded, turning away and motioning with his hand for Feliciano to follow. Before he could let his hand drop, however, Feliciano grabbed at it, lacing his fingers between Ludwig's as he set his pace to match. Ludwig had to make a conscious effort not to freeze up, though he could do nothing to stop the spread of red colouration around his collar and cheekbones.

Ludwig glanced at Feliciano from the corner of his eye repeatedly. Though he had managed to keep from going blank again, he was still mesmerized by Feliciano's voice. And, now that he looked properly, he noticed that he was beautiful as well. His waist was slim, and his hips curved out just slightly. His cheekbones were high, and his jawline was soft, a harsh contrast to Ludwig's less obvious cheekbones and square jaw. His hair was a beautiful auburn, with noticeable natural highlights of a colour that was almost gold. It wasn't quite in the 'curly' range, but it waved across his head and curled towards his face, ultimately leaving Ludwig thinking of the waves on the river's surface when the wind is harsh.

Before he could continue his looking-over of Feliciano's figure, golden-brown eyes lifted to meet his gaze, and he was nearly overcome with embarrassment. He'd been staring hard enough to burn a hole through him! However, Feliciano appeared not to have noticed. He merely smiled, pointing forwards. "Is that your house?"

Ludwig looked up, nodding as he caught sight of the small, one-story brick house. "Yes, that's mine."

Feliciano's expression brightened even further, and he finally released Ludwig's hand to prance up to his front door.

Ludwig, temporarily forgetting that he did not, in fact, live alone, motioned for Feliciano to go ahead inside.

Feliciano nodded, opening the door and skipping inside.

Ludwig's memory was jogged by a loud crash, and the sound of Gilbert howling in surprise, and Feliciano squawking in equal shock. _Right_. Gilbert would be in the kitchen preparing dinner.

Ludwig ran into the kitchen quickly, hissing through his teeth as he narrowly avoided stepping on shattered ceramic bits. Gilbert, at the sight of his younger brother, pointed at Feliciano (who was now on the floor, crying and cradling his foot as he attempted to dislodge a bit of the shattered bowl from it,) and desperately tried to find his words. "W-Who the hell is this, Lud?! He's – He's buck naked! And scaly!" He howled, shaking his outstretched hand at the sobbing fae accusingly.

Ludwig dropped to his knees next to Feliciano, taking hold of his injured foot and looking over it as he spoke to Gilbert. "He's a fae," He explained. "I think he said he was a river nymph. I found him… well, in the river. His name is Feliciano. He's nice." He added, remembering the sweet looks the fae would give him as they spoke.

Gilbert, though still breathing heavily, seemed to have calmed down considerably. He nodded, and knelt down to deal with the pieces of bowl scattered across the floor. "I'm sorry," He muttered, glancing up at Feliciano. "I was just surprised, is all. Naked guy in my kitchen, what am I supposed to do, ya know?" He chuckled at this, an embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks.

Ludwig rolled his eyes, giving his brother a pointed look before – finally – yanking out the now-bloodied chunk of bowl. He winced when Feliciano yelped in pain, using his shirt to dab at the blood that slowly trickled its way down Feliciano's foot.

"Sorry, sorry – ah, sorry." Ludwig apologized repeatedly, cringing as Feliciano continued to whimper in pain. "I don't suppose you can walk now, either?"

Feliciano shook his head quickly, raising a hand to wipe at the tears streaming down his cheeks. Gilbert, having finished with his task of ridding the floor of any other dangerous shards, ruffled Feliciano's hair. "I'll get you some boxers to wear, and Lud here will take you to the living room so we can get that foot of yours properly bandaged, okay?"

Feliciano nodded, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. Ludwig took this opportunity to pick him up bridal-style, ignoring the fae's squawk of surprise as he shuffled towards the living room. Once reached, he set Feliciano down carefully on a wooden chair, padded by a straw-stuffed cushion.

Gilbert came skipping in from another room, carrying some cloth strips for bandaging and a bowl of water to wash off the wound. He set these down on the rugged wooden table in the middle of the room, pulling a pair of wadded-up undergarments from under his arm and tossing them at Feliciano.

"There ya go, kid. Put those on."

Feliciano simply looked at them in bewilderment, narrowing his eyes in obvious confusion at the white wool. "Um – How?"

The surprised silence was only broken by Gilbert's hyena-like laughter, racking his body to the point where he could no longer stand steadily and had to sit down on the table.

Ludwig narrowed his eyes at his older brother, pursing his lips in distaste. "Gilbert, please. Dress the wound and help him get dressed, I have to finish tending to the carrots before the deer come and start grazing again."

Gilbert, after finally managing to recover himself, waved Ludwig off with a nod. "Yea, yea, okay. Go for it, farmer boy."

Ludwig stood and turned to leave without a word, though he threw Gilbert a borderline-murderous glance over his shoulder. Gilbert flinched and let loose a rather childlike squeak, which, when asked later on, he would deny the existence of entirely.

After a seemingly long moment of silence, Feliciano decided to pipe up.

"Ah, do you think you could help me with this now, whatever your name is?"

Gilbert stood immediately, slapping a hand to his chest and looking as though he were about to give a patriotic speech. "My name is Gilbert! You can call me Gil!"

"Uh," Feliciano murmured, staring up at Gilbert in awe. "Okay, Gil, can you help me?"

Gilbert absolutely _preened_ at Feliciano's use of his nickname, returning to his usual posture (borderline-slouching if you asked anyone but him,) and dropping into a crouch in front of Feliciano. He took up the boxers in his hands, pushing them over Feliciano's squirming feet and pulling them up his legs. "Now," He instructed. "Pull them the rest of the way up to your waist until they're comfortable."

Feliciano did as instructed while Gilbert prepared the bandaging, though when Gilbert turned back, he was squirming in his seat. "I can't get them comfortable, Gil." He explained, looking down at the white wool skeptically. "I guess I'm not used to it…"

Gilbert gave a nod, returning to his position crouching in front of the fae. At a second thought for his comfort, he dropped completely to the floor, crossing his legs and pulling Feliciano's injured foot towards him by the heel. He scrubbed at the wound with a wet rag, frowning at the hisses of pain this elicited from Feliciano, before wrapping his foot up to the ankle in a long strip of wool bandaging, which he clipped in place with a pin.

"Alright," Gilbert said, clapping his hands together as he clambered to his feet. "Let's go mess with Lud."

* * *

><p>From that day forward, Feliciano visited constantly. He kept the river running smoothly for Ludwig's crops, and in return he and Gilbert provided Feliciano with clothes, food ('Landman food', as he liked to call it,) and entertainment (which wasn't too difficult; Feliciano found even little things like 'Landman' speech patterns or phrases amusing). Gilbert fawned over Feliciano like he was a second little brother, which the fae obviously enjoyed.<p>

Ludwig, however, grew closer to him in a different way.

Ludwig had never experienced such a feeling, and, if nothing else, it was the unfamiliarity caused him grief. Feliciano plagued his thoughts – '_I bet Feliciano would like this food._', '_I bet Feliciano would think the moon is pretty tonight._' – and when he wasn't crowding his mind, he was crowding his bed.

For some reason, Feliciano found the concept of bedrooms absolutely _fascinating_, and took every available opportunity to leap into Ludwig's bed after him and snuggle into the pillows and blankets. Ludwig soon found himself uncomfortable _without_ the young fae's presence, which was troubling to him but at the same time unsurprising. With how much he was around, how could he not grow used to it? However, after relaying these feelings to his close friend and neighbor, Antonio, he was almost horrified to hear his exclamation of '_You're in love, Luddy! How cute!_'

Now that the idea was introduced, it seemed the only possible explanation. Though he protested – '_He's a fae!_' '_He's a boy!_' '_He probably wouldn't love me back even so!_' – He was always met with a perfectly sound argument – '_What does that matter?_' '_Lots of boys love other boys!_' '_I'm in the same situation as you, and my fae loves me back!_' – and though the last of those arguments only raised questions, he could no longer argue.

He was, most certainly, in love. And he would, most certainly, tell Feliciano. Even if he could not reciprocate, he deserved to know.

He told Feliciano of his newly discovered feelings with a tint to his cheeks and a nervous edge to his voice, and the fae listened with rapt attention.

Feliciano did, as it happens, reciprocate.


	6. Dennor - Blind

okay, so ! first of all, this took forever and im sorry about that ! ((its 3,686 words so i have an excuse)) and ! after this, im gonna start working on my multichapter prucan fic, so updates for this will be fewer and further between, which i also apologize for !  
>second of all, as a disclaimer, i have literally *no idea* how anything hospital-related works, so basically everything besides the inclusion of physical therapy &amp; the names of the broken bones are most likely wildly inaccurate<br>third of all, the ending is a bit abrupt, but i didnt wanna add the epilogue bit i was planning because that wouldve taken *ages* to finish and ive been very slow with my writing, so i just cut it off there instead of making you wait any longer !  
>and lastly, happy holidays ! i wish you all the best !<p>

* * *

><p>A man, middle-aged, blond, tall, and broad, dressed in pink faux-fur sleeping pants and black slippers, walked down the street with a corgi at the other end of the leash he held loosely in his hand. Obviously fatigue-ridden, he stumbled along like a zombie, eyes half-lidded and jaw slack.<p>

It seemed as though he had pulled himself together enough to fix his hair before leaving the house, though. Or perhaps his hair fixed its self.

In any case, his dog, named Cherry for her red-brown coat, was very excitable this morning. She sniffed at the ankles of people she passed, darting about with all the grace of a newborn.

The blond man, in his half-awake state, failed to notice when Cherry took a particular interest in a young girl waiting at the crosswalk. Not until Cherry had followed the girl out into the street so far that she tugged on the leash. He stared out in horror at his dog in the middle of the road, seeming to snap into full consciousness within milliseconds. He tried to tug her back, but alas, her collar slid over her head and set her free. He cursed under his breath, dashing out into the street to retrieve her.

Which is when the light switched from red to green, and set several cars, unaware of the blond's presence until the last second, upon both him and the dog.

The last thing he saw before he was thrown over the roof of a car was his dog disappearing beneath a van.

* * *

><p>The blond man opened his eyes slowly, expecting light to assault his eyes. It did not. He would have questioned this if not for the sudden, searing pain in his right leg when he attempted to shift it. He cursed loudly, lifting a hand to his face. Bandaging covered his left eye, which only caused more confusion. An attempt to sit up ended in pain and cursing.<p>

"Mister Kohler! Please, stay still!" A feminine voice scolded him, placing a small hand on his chest to push him back. "You have a few fractured ribs. They'll heal, but you mustn't move much."

He blinked, staring in what he hoped was the woman's direction with confusion written on his features.

"What? Where am I? I can't see a fuckin' thing." He finally spoke, grimacing at a soft, thumping ache in his skull that worsened when he moved his jaw.

A silence followed, and he almost thought the woman had left the room when she finally spoke. "You're in the hospital. You were hit by a car. A doctor will be here soon to tell you about your injuries. Do you remember anything?"

Now that he had been reminded, the whole scene came flooding back in vibrant colour. He began to nod, to open his mouth to speak, but froze.

"Where's my dog? Is she okay? Cherry? Please tell me she's okay, I-" His voice wavered as frightened tears threatened to spill down his cheeks, and he let the sentence trail off.

Another short silence.

"I'm so sorry, dear. Your dog didn't make it."

A long, pained groan that wavered and cracked ripped from his throat, and he lifted his head just to throw it back down again the pillow again. The tears finally spilled, running across his cheekbones and falling to the side. He lifted an arm to cover his face in shame, knowing that it would be twisted with his agony and turning red.

He didn't hear her leave the room over his grieving tears, nor did he hear the doctor mentioned by the woman before come in, only to sigh at the sight of him.

"Matthias Kohler, please calm down." He murmured in an attempt to sooth his patient. "I'm… very sorry about your loss."

Matthias was startled out of his mourning, scrubbing at his face with one hand in an (unsuccessful) attempt to clear away the traces of his sobbing. He looked towards the sound of the new voice, wondering again why he could see nothing. Was there bandaging over his other eye and he simply had not noticed?

"Sorry," He mumbled, a frown creasing his pale face.

"It's no trouble – ah, may I call you Matthias? I'm Doctor Lukas Bondevik. We need to discuss your injuries and the treatment."

"Sure, if I get to call ya Lukas. So, uh, what are my injuries, exactly?" He still felt rather broken at the loss of his pet, but pushed it aside for now. There would be room for grief later.

"Well, let's start from the bottom. You have twenty fractures total in your feet, two breaks and a fracture in your right tibia and fibula, a fracture in your right femur, and three fractures in your pelvis. Two broken ribs, a broken collarbone, and," Here he paused, taking a deep breath before reading off the last one. "Serious – _permanent_ – damage to the vision center of your brain."

It finally clicked.

"I'm _blind_?!"

Lukas had apparently expected this, halting Matthias' attempt to sit up and to claw at his face with quick movements of small, strong hands. "Please, be calm, Matthias! Don't hurt yourself. No, don't cry, Matthias-"

Too late. The tears came down again, though this time silently. He let all the grief and the pain roll down his cheeks, stain his skin with glittering tracks, leave him behind to soak into his pillow and bandaging instead. Lukas loosened his grip on Matthias' wrists and chest, instead brushing Matthias' hair from his forehead and murmuring encouragement. _It's okay_, _We're here to help_, _You'll get through this_ – it all was whispered into Matthias' ear, and he clung to each syllable like they were his only hope of survival.

And after what seemed like forever, he finally calmed.

He reached up, fumbling blindly until he found and grabbed Lukas' shoulder. He had so much to say, to ask, but he could only seem to say one thing. "Thank you."

"Of course." Lukas said, his warm breath washing over Matthias' tear-stained face once more before he pulled away. "Are you feeling well enough to talk about the treatments?"

Matthias nodded, rubbing away the tears with one hand and placing the other over his chest. "Yeah, okay."

"Alright. You're going to be confined to a wheelchair for a while, while your pelvis and ribs heal. After that you can switch to crutches, and you will undergo physical therapy to keep your leg from getting weak while it's in the cast. You'll also be assigned a personal nurse from the staff here, as most of us are trained for it. I'm not sure who it will be yet."

Matthias grinned, shooting out a hand to point in Lukas' direction. He could only hope it was accurate. "Maybe it'll be you!"

"I certainly hope not," Lukas grumbled, the sound of crinkling paper signaling the turn of a page. "Anyways, the personal assistant will help you through your daily routine and such until whatever injuries can heal do so. At that point they will begin training you to do things on your own. You will also be taught to read braille."

"Read what?"

"Please don't tell me you don't know what braille is."

"…I know what braille is?"

"My god, Matthias. It's a series of small bumps that visually impaired people can run their fingers over and read."

"So it's, like, reading with my sense of touch? That's so cool!"

A moment of silence was ended by a soft chuckle. "Yeah, sure, if that's how you want to think about it."

A scraping sound came from somewhere to his left, and he flinched, instinctually turning to look though he no longer could.

"Calm down," Lukas said. "It's just me. I sat down in a chair next to your bed."

"Oh." Matthias breathed out a sigh of relief, before speaking again. "Hey, Lukas?"

"Yes, Matthias?"

"I don't know what you look like."

"Oh. I suppose you don't."

"I never will."

"…Yeah."

"…Could I see with my sense of touch, too?"

"What do you mean, Matthias?"

Matthias swallowed nervously. This would sound weird, he was sure of it, but he wanted to see if it would work. "I wanna, uh, touch your face."

A stunned silence followed, and just as Matthias was about to apologize, he heard the scrape of Lukas' chair against the tile – scooting it forward, towards this bed. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

Matthias grinned brightly, holding out a hand. "Okay, put my hand on your face so I don't hit you tryin' to find it. And you gotta tell me about the colours, too, okay?"

Lukas mumbled his assent, gripping at Matthias' wrist at pulling it up to his face to rest over his cheek.

"I'm very pale," He started, sounding cautious, as though he were testing new ground. "And I have blue eyes that, from a distance, look purple."

Matthias nodded along to his words, gently pressing his fingers into porcelain skin. He traced the line of his jaw with his fingertips, lifting to the pad of his smooth cheeks and up again to his cheekbone and nose bridge.

"I have faint freckling over my nose," He spoke again, as if triggered by Matthias' touch. "Very faint."

Matthias, hoping to guide Lukas' words further, lifted his hand again to push at his hairline, only to pull back down again with a strand of silky hair between his fingers.

As hoped, Lukas' words tried to make sense of his hair when it was touched. "My hair is blond, a lot like yours, but a bit lighter. It's mostly straight, but waves at the ends a bit. I have it pinned back on the left with a hairclip. A silver upside-down cross."

Matthias hummed as his fingers followed Lukas' directions, colliding with the clip and tracing its shape. Indeed, it was an upside-down cross. He let his touch trail down, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Lukas' ear.

"Thank you, Lukas. Thank you."

Matthias could hear the smile on Lukas' lips as he returned with a simple 'Of course'. Without thinking he reached down, pressing the pad of his thumb against the curve of Lukas' lips and taking in the warmth of his emotion which he so desperately needed.

No matter how much he tried, he still felt cold.

* * *

><p>A few days later and his new routine had been scheduled. To Matthias' glee and Lukas' rather-well-hidden excitement, Lukas was assigned as Matthias' personal assistant. He was assigned for physical therapy on Wednesdays, and emotional therapy on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Monday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, Lukas and Matthias were left to their own devices.<p>

One such free weekend, on a particularly warm Saturday no more than two weeks after the incident, Matthias had been coaxed awake with teasing promises of waffles and was downstairs gorging himself on Lukas' cooking. Lukas looked on in pride; not only were his waffles so good that Matthias was practically inhaling them, but he was using his silverware properly. You almost couldn't tell he couldn't see his food.

After Matthias had finished his breakfast and Lukas had disposed of the dirty dishes, he turned back to Matthias to help him into his wheelchair. After reaching a certain vicinity, he recoiled in disgust.

"Oh, god. Shower time. That's really awful."

"Oh, please. This isn't even bad. Once, I went a whole week and a half without showering, and people on the street walked around me like a river 'round a rock." Matthias announced with a hint of pride, at which point Lukas whacked him upside the head.

"Don't say it like it's a good thing! That's gross! If I were a more dedicated doctor I'd be having a meltdown!" Lukas scolded, nose scrunching up in disgust. "Honestly, you _reek_. I can't imagine any worse. You are taking a shower _right now_."

"Okay, _mom_."

"Shut your mouth and strip!"

"Doctor Bondevik, I never knew you felt that way about me!"

"I will _throttle you_."

"Alright, damn!" Matthias relented, laughter lacing his words. "Hot shower this time, yeah?"

Lukas grunted affirmation before stalking back up the short flight of stairs to the second floor, stomping to make his exit clear to his sightless ward.

"What a teenager, honestly."

"_I heard that, Matthias!_"

Matthias only snickered, beginning his struggle to undress himself. The quicker he got the shower over with, the better.

* * *

><p>After a long, steam-clouded shower that ended in a feeling of refreshment for Matthias and utterly drenched clothes for Lukas, (he still vehemently refused to actually join Matthias in the shower, much to Matthias' own amusement,) Matthias was heaved into his wheelchair and taken back downstairs.<p>

"Okay," Lukas huffed, exhausted by the strain of getting such a large man down the stairs on such precarious wheels. "Did you have any plans for today?"

"Not particularly. I kinda wanna watch a movie."

"…_Watch_?"

"Listen to a movie. You know what I mean, fuckass. Pick a movie from the shelf, whichever one you want."

Lukas shrugged, but after remembering Matthias couldn't see him, he grumbled assent. Shuffling could be heard as he sifted through Matthias' collection of discs, plastic clacking against plastic as disc cases collided. "How about Finding Nemo?"

"Well, I have to admit, I didn't expect that one. I knew you were secretly a teenager. Thirteen with a PhD. I'm impressed, Lukas."

"Shut your trap. I am _thirty_, fuck you very much."

"Oh my god."

"What?"

"Oh my god, Lukas. I'm _older than you_."

"_God save me_."

Matthias laughed at that, slapping his knee against his amusement as half-honest fear dripped from Lukas' words. "Alright, alright -" He broke his own attempt at regaining control with another burst of laughter, which he eventually managed to recover from. (If he had to mention, Lukas' ire filling the room like a cloud of smoke certainly helped.) "Alright. Okay. Put the movie in. Help me onto the couch." There was a pause. Absolute silence. Matthias broke it with a childlike groan. "_Please_."

Matthias could practically feel Lukas' smirk worming its way under his skin, which elicited a half-hearted frown to pull down the corners of his lips. "How rude, my lovely nurse."

"How rude indeed." Matthias heard the whir of the DVD player as it started up, squeaking in surprise as his wheelchair was suddenly turned and pushed towards the couch. Without giving him time to even open his mouth to speak, Lukas grabbed him under his arms, heaving him up from the chair to the couch with a soft wheeze.

"Oh! Thanks. I could've helped, y'know!"

"No need. You're injured still, you know." Lukas probably couldn't tell he was letting concern lace his words, like he so rarely did.

But Matthias could tell.

He said nothing. He liked it. If he told Lukas, he might stop.

He merely hummed his agreement, listening as several clicks sounded and the movie began to play.

"What was the dad-fish's name again? Merlin?"

"Marlin," Lukas corrected gently.

And with that, a comfortable silence settled in with them, the only sound being Marlin's concerned, then sad, then scolding voice from the speakers, followed by Dory's endearingly ditzy chirping. At some point, Matthias wasn't sure exactly when, he found Lukas' hand idly tapping against Matthias' knee.

He was letting his guard down, Matthias could tell. But only in his distraction. Seemingly mindless fingers inscribed indiscernible languages into his kneecap and thigh, smooth fingernails brushing lightly against his leg and causing him to shiver at the feather-light contact. God, being ticklish was such a curse. He didn't want to startle Lukas; then he might take his hand away.

Matthias sighed contentedly as Lukas returned to his gibberish inscriptions. Lukas truly cared for his patients; mourned with them, sympathized with them, comforted them when he could and cried with them when he could not. He knew this, from tales from around town. Lukas was the most empathetic doctor on the face of the earth.

So why, he wondered, did Lukas seem to avoid contact with him?

* * *

><p>It had been another week, and another Saturday dawned. In one week, Matthias would be able to switch to crutches; this physical therapy had been going extremely well.<p>

His mental therapy had not.

He had been growing – as Matthias liked to word it when speaking to his therapist – colder; for him, negative emotions were cold, and positive emotions were warm. He always felt warm when he smiled or laughed, he explained, and would grow cold when he was angry or sad. And lately, he had had to pretend he was warm, when in reality he was colder than he could ever remember being. _I feel lonely_, he would say. _Even though Lukas is there, physically, I feel as though he doesn't really want to be; that his mind is somewhere else. And that makes me even lonelier_.

His therapist tried, but he could do nothing to console the poor man.

Lukas had begun noticing too. He didn't know the reason for it at first, as Matthias had asked for secrecy, but he had most certainly noticed. Matthias had become much quieter, and if that wasn't enough to scare anyone who knew him, he had also begun disregarding his appearance. He wouldn't take showers until Lukas forced him, he hardly ate, he wore the same clothes for days on end; it was well and truly terrifying.

Lukas had, at first, tried keeping his distance from Matthias. However, this only seemed to make it worse. The thought of trying to get closer to Matthias made Lukas cringe.

He did, after all, have a terrible problem with lacking a brain-to-mouth filter when it came to crushes.

It had happened so slowly, Lukas hadn't even noticed it at first. One day, he caught himself staring while Matthias was smiling and laughing about something on the radio, caught _himself_ smiling too, and that was it. No questions. No room for denial.

He had it bad for Matthias.

And that was when he'd pulled away. From past experiences, he knew he would start running his mouth and end up giving himself away. He had no idea of Matthias' sexuality, or romanticism, and even if they aligned to give him a chance, he had no idea if Matthias was interested in him specifically.

Lukas had decided he would rather put himself through never knowing than try, fail, and have to live through the most awkward period of time he had ever experienced while finishing with his care for Matthias. With the way Matthias was acting in response, he knew it was rather selfish of him, but he was terrified.

And so Lukas kept his distance, watching in agony as Matthias let himself go to ruins. Oh, how Lukas wished he could still be a friend to him without fear of making everything worse.

On this aforementioned Saturday, Lukas was busying himself with scrolling through several sites on his phone, and Matthias was fiddling with the dials on the radio. A song came up through the static, and Matthias began tapping his fingernails against the table to the beat. Lukas, completely aware that his and Matthias' taste in music did not align at all, tuned the music out in favor of his phone.

He glanced at Matthias out of the side of his eye, more instinctual than anything, to make sure he was alright.

And he saw glimmering tears trailing down Matthias' cheeks.

Lukas, suddenly alarmed and wondering what the song could have done to elicit tears, let himself listen.

_'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly, but I'll miss your arms around me._

Oh. Lukas knew this song. It was by a favourite band of Matthias', though he couldn't quite pin down the name. He continued to listen, curiosity now peaked.

_The silence isn't so bad, 'til I look at my hands and feel sad, 'cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly._

Oh.

_Oh._

Well, _that _was a game-changer.

Some hopeful part of his mind begged and pleaded for Matthias to be listening to that song and thinking of him. Another berated him and told him he couldn't _possibly_ be.

Lukas was understandably biased toward the former.

In a (rather pathetic, if you asked Lukas,) attempt to draw a determining reaction from Matthias, Lukas stood, rushing over to Matthias and bending to wipe at his tears. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Matthias looked him in the eyes with terrifying accuracy, placing his hand over Lukas' to press it against his cheek. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it and shut it again. Lukas could only describe the look in Matthias' eyes as a mixture of adoration and utter, crippling fear.

In that moment, Lukas felt his heart crumble and flutter into vibrant life simultaneously.

It was also in that moment that Lukas decided he was going to do the absolute _stupidest_ thing he'd ever done in his entire goddamn life.

He leaned forward, and he pressed his lips against Matthias' as gently as he could.

_Waist-deep in thought because when I think of you, I don't feel so alone._

_God_, Lukas was going to throw himself off a bridge if this didn't work.

* * *

><p>Matthias nearly screamed when he felt the press of Lukas' lips against his own. Instead, he pressed back, tilting his head to keep his nose from hitting Lukas'. Though he already could not see, he closed his eyes.<p>

No fireworks went off, the world didn't stop turning, time went on just as it had before, and all too soon it was over.

That didn't stop it from leaving Matthias absolutely _breathless_.

"Lukas…?" Matthias called softly, as though he expected Lukas to have disappeared.

"Yes, Matthias?" Came the murmur in response. So, no, not gone. Not an illusion. Really there, as breathless as he. Matthias could hardly believe it.

"…Am I dreaming?"

"No, Matthias. You're not dreaming."

"Thank god."

Lukas laughed, soft and wispy and everything Matthias ever wanted to hear.


End file.
